In all fairness, the morning ride is pretty uneventful, I catch the 7:00am bus, which means that I'm on the bus stop at 6:55 at the earliest, which gives me just about time to ignore the conversations going on around me (today one of them revolved, inexplicably around Pavi Supermarket ... while the other took the usual course of "madooooooonna, ili hawn kwarta u ghada m'ghaddietx wahda!" No shit Sherlock, it passes every twenty minutes!). I also have just enough time to take a cursory look at the graffiti on the bus stage - apparently someone called Denise has a preference towards male reproductive instruments of the largish kind, and some people with strange, misspelt names thought it was cute to share the fact that they "where (sic) here" on a particular date this summer. On the latter I won't comment ... I decided to keep a blog for crap's sake, talk about sharing!
The real study comes in the evening, when I make my way to the Bus Terminus, and there I have full visuals of the many ... many ...MANY people waiting for the bus, shoving, grumbling, chatting, sleeping, or those more intellectually inclined, reading. I use this time of the day to observe, while I fiddle around with my Blackberry whiling the time away as I wait. AND ON THIS, I OPEN A PARENTHESIS:
My dear Blackberry, even though you crashed for me for 3 days two weeks ago, even though you were not created by Steve Jobs and even though you do not have an application for everything ranging from mosquito repellent to nuclear warfare ... I LOVE PASSIONATELY, ENDLESSLY AND UNCONDITIONALLY. Come for a snuggle little Berry xxxx.
PARENTHESIS CLOSED.
Anyhooo ... yesterday I encountered a typical Maltese male of the type that one has for sure encountered in one's life ... Ir-Ragel Imsawwat. This is usually a middle-aged man, meek, submissive and at a general loss for words which walks one or two steps behind the typical Maltese female who marries this man ... Il-Mara Cercura. The Mara Cercura speaks in the Imperative Tense, usually an octave or two higher than is required from the situation or scenario currently encountered, with a voice that is somewhat nasal, and which is accompanied by random and spasmatic arm movements to make her point.
Not a pretty sight.
This poor man was blamed for the tardiness of the bus, for the fact that had it possibly been raining they would have got wet, for the humidity, and for the fact that the bus on the next lane, which actually leads to the airport on the other side of the country, was more frequent than the one they wanted to catch. Almost felt sorry for him. Almost. In such circumstances, it might perhaps be the time to forget about ESF and give the missus an earful mister ruhi!!!
Which brings me to the final part of my musings for today. The Ragel Imsawwat is just one kind of men from a non-exhaustive list that I have encountered in my life. Freud has already had a field day with such categorisation, but I will be presumptuous enough to come up with my laygirl's list. More on each will be discussed, hopefully, in future posts:
1. the fisherman
2. the caveman
3. the mummy's boy (aka run run run awaaaaaaay and find an orphan woman!!!)
4. the peter pan (aka leave home already!!!)
5. the geeky-hottie
6. the I'm kinda hot but don't know it so I shrug my way around by looking gorgeous in my jeans.
5 and 6 are there somewhere ... but are usually so elusive, so ethereal...SO TAKEN that one can't help wondering sometimes whether they're really the stuff of urban legends!
enough for today! :) a la prochaine!
loved it !! More more Please !!
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